Led On and Rebound
by Spamanomano
Summary: Nothing hurt worse than being led on; Arthur knew that now. After a night at the bar to drown his sorrows in ale, the nation uses France as a rebound.Will that tumble in the sheets turn out to be more? Or is Arthur doomed to be forever alone? FrUk
1. Prologue

**Edited: 6/10/12**

AN:

This was an RP between one of my friends, who I call Nanny as a nickname for her role-play account, and I. For your information, she wrote as Arthur, while I wrote as Francis. She's an amazing writer, so it's a lot easier to tell who is who, considering I can't write like her. xD  
><strong><br>Warnings**: Yaoi(meaning boy on boy action), language, suggestive themes, and sex.  
>If you dislike any of this or can't handle, please press the back button now. Don't say I didn't warn you.<p>

**Disclaimer: **If I or Nanny owned Hetalia, we'd probably be rich and have many thankful fangirls. But we don't, meaning unfortunately we don't own Hetalia. All rights belong to the creator, Hidekaz Himaruya.

R&R and Enjoy~! :)

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><p>And it was all because of that whelp, Alfred.<p>

How dare he? String him along for so long, only to laugh in his face come time to bite the bullet? The audacity! The horror! The Brit wanted little more than to get sick all over himself. Fucking Alfred. He **loved** him. Loved him with every fiber of his being, he did. And to have it all thrown back in his face? Rubbish. Absolute rubbish.

Well fuck him. **Fuck** **him to** **hell**. He didn't have to take this shit. Not from Alfred, not from anyone. Especially not from Alfred, that blithering twit. Well, now he knew what to do. It was the only thing that ever made him feel better; he was going drinking. Yes, drinking. Getting pissed was the only remedy for such heartbreak. It was a fitting end to such drivel; that tripe that only those who were stupid, called '**love**'.

Love and lust. It was such a passionate, exotic feeling. It was absolutely beautiful, if you had it all and you were in ultimate bliss. Oh of course, Francis should know this. He _was_ the country of l'amour after all. He definitely had experienced it firsthand before.

He knew how to woo a girl or guy, charm them into his bed and whisper sweet nothings into their ears. He knew exactly how to act, and be their dream guy. They would see him as the perfect guy - to which he was incredibly proud of. He could satisfy them without even trying, and they would easily bend to his will. But no matter how 'perfect' he seemed, both partners would walk down their own separate paths after they fulfilled that lust they seemed to had bottled up.

Francis could have had it all . He could have had both lust and 'love', no drama included. No need for any worry, and wouldn't have had to put too much effort either.

Not to say he didn't get the sex he was deprived of recently, but it was hard for him to. Not with the thought of a certain man lingering in his thoughts whenever he fucked. He felt as if he was betraying him whenever he took someone to his bed(or theirs). Thus he had stopped his escapades for awhile.

He could have fallen in love with that beautiful girl who was already smitten with him. Then they could have had a wonderful relationship, with an added bit of pleasurable sex. But non!

He fell in love with the stoic man, one of the hardest people to please, especially since the other seemed to hate him. He fell in love with someone who seemed so complex beyond words, yet was someone he was willing to solve the puzzle for, see past those facades, and dwelve deeper into the other's mind. He wanted to solve the mystery that made him so compelled to the other.

He fell in love with **him:**

Arthur Kirkland.

He wanted to know him, more than he already did so. Wanted the other to notice him, other than the flirty frog that could not keep his hands to himself. Wanted the other to see that he could be better than Alfred, one that actually loved him no less! Most of all, he just wanted Arthur to know he loved him with every fiber of his being.

But he couldn't.

And it was all because of that stupid American!


	2. 1st Chapter

**Edited: 6/10/12**

AN:

Yay, another chapter uploaded! X3

Gyah, 3 AM here and 5 AM for Nanny. -yawn- Aha. xD

**Disclaimer: **We don't own anything.

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><p><strong>Led On and Rebound<strong>

**Chapter 1**

The burn of the alcohol felt heavenly. It sat heavy in his stomach, and the Brit sighed happily at the feeling. Oh how lovely it would be to just... forget. Forget of the rejection, of the humiliation. Of /everything/, succumbing to the bliss of a blank mind; brain cells eroded away with the sting of ale. It was all he could do not to sing in joy!

So he drank. He tossed back ale after ale, gulping down as much alcohol as he could get his hands on. Yes, he had accomplished his mission for the night; getting absolutely pissed. Arthur could hardly remember his own name, much less that Alfred's! How lovely it was, to see the colours of the bar blending together, bending together, dancing together! How romantic. He congratulated his bar stool of the whole affair; "I'm so proud of you, lad! To nab such a lass as the bar counter.. you really are my son, after all!"

As I said before; piss drunk.

Based on the way the Brit began flirting with his mug of ale, he was horny as well. "Hello luv. Do you come here often? I don't think so; surely I would remember such a face as yours~!" Yes, Arthur had lost it. He really should have stopped drinking, but as others will tell you, he's as stubborn as a mule.

A single sigh escaped Francis' lips, and he shut his eyes tightly, calming his thoughts before entering El Dorado: a popular Spanish bar nearby. He felt that he needed a break from such a busy day of work and disappointed thoughts; so decided to relax in one of his favorite bars. The door squeaked slightly, and the little bells rang as it opened, informing everyone there was a new customer. Though no one really payed attention to that, minding their own business as they continued to drink to their hearts content.

Francis made his way over to the same spot he sat in every time, being that he was a regular to this bar every time he had free time when he was in America. Unfortunately, this time it was occupied by a rather loud and clearly troubled man. From the looks of it, the other seemed to be making out with a... mug? Francis found the sight a bit amusing, stifling a small chuckle. Maybe the other could serve as a source of entertainment for him, and thinking that, he decided to sit next to him.

He could only see the back of the man as he continued to weave through the people. Scraggy dirty blonde hair, and a slender and lean frame. He was oddly familiar to him. And the way he slurred his words incoherently, and his drunken antics just reminded him of Arthur. It honestly wouldn't have surprised Francis if it _was_ Arthur, but the one thing that stopped him from believing that it was, in fact, actually Arthur, was that he was supposed to be with the bubbly American at the moment.

He remembered. He always remembered what Arthur said, even if it was such words he did not want to hear. Arthur, unknown to himself, had rambled on too much about how he was going to hang out with Alfred after the meetings, and Francis even remembered hearing Arthur mumble about it being a date. It had made his chest hurt a bit, churning at the idea, but he quickly shrugged it off, teasing the other instead. He looked so giddy, yet nervous at the same time, even though Arthur did his best to hide what he was really feeling. But Francis was perceptive and had a keen eye. To others, it would seem that Arthur was just acting in his normal calm persona, but Francis could see the way he bit his lip at times, pursing it in thought and worry. Then there were the times that Arthur had even sneaked glances at the American, and would let a small smile appear and his emerald eyes would shine brightly.

Francis yearned for that happy smile. He wanted it, just for him. But alas, it would not be so.

Shaking his head of such thoughts, he plopped himself down onto the seat next to the man, unknowing of the events soon to happen.

Head dizzy with liquor, Arthur could do little but fumble about; humming and singing drunkenly to anyone in the vicinity. The other patrons warily kept their distance, a wise decision on their parts; the Brit could slug with the best of them, regardless of his sobriety. And who in their right man would stop him? The man was extremely intimidating when he saw fit to be.

He had reason to sob. A damn good reason, at that! Unrequited love was a horrid thing; taking root in the heart like a weed. It sapped energy and hope from him like no other, a tumor in his blood. Love was meant to be shared, right? Then why didn't.. why didn't his love come to fruition? Why was he left to weep in the dusty remains of a withered first love? Why? It just wasn't fair, none of it was. Where was his storybook ending? His knight in shining armor?

Nowhere, that's where. In his opinion, Arthur's knight had hooked up with some skank along the way, completely forgetting about his beloved 'princess' locked up in the dragon's keep. Now the blonde was left with nothing to do but drown his sorrows in this blasted bar. He wanted more than anything to be bitter about it, but it just... it wasn't worth the effort to get riled up anymore. What purpose would it serve? Alfred had been the first man let into his heart. Could he leave himself open for love again? Would he even want to?

Downing yet another tumbler of ale, Arthur leaned onto the patron seated beside him. "Hullo luv. What brings you 'ere?" Drunken ramblings spilled from his lips, things like odd compliments ("You have pretty teeth, luvie!") and unfinished punchlines, you know, the usual drunk's blather. The Brit had draped himself heavily over his new 'friend', slurring flattery into his ears. ("So pretty. I bet you'd make a lovely husband, mate!")

Green eyes glazed over with the lackluster film of alcohol, Arthur was surprisingly able to hold his liquor down. "Do I know you, mister?" He managed to slur. "You look ex-ex-extree- mighty familiar, sir. Perhaps we've met at the cinema? Maybe at a teashop? E'lighten me, chap! It'd be smashing to know."

Turns out Francis was wrong. It _was_ Arthur, making a drunken mess of himself. Oddly, he was more surprised as to why the other didn't recognize him, despite not being sober. Furthermore, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed the way the Brit leaned into him and draped himself practically all over him.

Yes, Francis did wonder why the other was here instead of being with the self-proclaimed 'hero'. However, he decided not to fret on such a contemplation. After all, the Englishman was only here for the definite reason of Alfred doing something wrong. Again.

Cerulean eyes narrowed. Why did Alfred have to go and hurt Arthur all the time? Arthur definitely deserved love, one where his feelings would be returned back to him. Alfred did not even realize Arthur had feelings for him, and he was the one who could break Arthur without even trying to. Sure, Arthur was definitely not weak - Francis was 100 percent certain of that; he had experienced the Brit's harshness before.  
>It did not exclude the fact that Alfred had the ability to injure his heart. Love was not a physical thing; you could show it through means of actions, of course, but the idea of it was meant by the heart and your feelings.<br>Francis knew that if Alfred did not pertain to loving Arthur, he would only end up hurting him. While the Englishman was not stupid, and should know that his love may be unrequited, he still clung to the hope, despite the huge possibility of himself getting rejected.

Francis did not want to see Arthur in any more pain than he already was in.

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><p>Somehow, after erasing away any negative thoughts, between having the intoxicated yet seductive man droop over him, babbling like a madman, he was able to order himself a delicious glass of wine; in which he downed in just a few moments. Feeling a bit playful - courtesy of the drink, though he was in no way drunk - and already amused by the other's interactions, he decided to play along. "Maybe we've met someplace very private and special, mon cher?" He grinned flirtatiously, "I definitely would not have passed the lovely chance of being with you if we have met before." He leaned in, his hand placed on the Brit's soft cheek, tugging the other close to where their lips brushed against one another with every breath. He ended up pulling away, however, much to the disappointment of Arthur. Albeit the Frenchman shared his sentiments, he hid such an expression while the other pouted moodily.<p>

Minutes later, already on his 6th glass of wine, he felt the stirrings of intoxication in his veins. The corner of his lips twitched up in a leer as his eyes roamed up and down Arthur's body. 'Mmm,' he thought. 'Lapin, the things I would do to you with your consent...' He subconsciously licked his lips, and found himself staring at Arthur's plump pink lips. The need to kiss those pretty lips and caress his body gently was intense, and he struggled even more so as his mind drifted off far away from the land of sobriety.

Arthur, in the dull haze of his buzzed cranium, registered being subtly rejected. The Brit frowned heavily, a crease sculpting itself into the thin line of his brow. His brain's drunken solution? Jump into France's lap and beg, of course!

So that's exactly what he did.

In a clatter of bumped foreheads and entangled limbs, Arthur sloppily plopped himself into Francis' lap, an idiotic and drunken grin plastered on his face. "Don't play coy, love. It's both unwanted and unattractive." With a wink and a smile, the blonde planted a sloppy kiss to his companion's cheek. "Give us a kiss, won't you luvie?"

All his previous problems? Completely and utterly forgotten. It's a shame he was well on his way to forming yet another; and this one had a name.

**Francis Bonnefoy.**


End file.
